


Sunflowers, Roses, and Nocturnal Tulips

by vipertooths



Series: Request Fills [7]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: 1 botched love confession and 10 dozen flowers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, I'm Sorry, Idiots in Love, M/M, Modern Royalty, Mutual Pining, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, its less prominent of a theme than i meant it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 12:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20600432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipertooths/pseuds/vipertooths
Summary: "Why do you have so many roses in here?""Oh, I don't know, really.""You don'tknow?"





	Sunflowers, Roses, and Nocturnal Tulips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dianawritesfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianawritesfic/gifts).

> diana.... i know this probably isn't what you wanted but i hope you like it anyway
> 
> apologies if theres any typos, its 3am

Eddie stares out his window distractedly as his mother goes on about his refusal of the most recent marriage proposal. His room overlooks the gardens, where his favorite gardener is currently tending to a bush of hydrangeas. He can still remember their first meeting with clarity, even though it's been three years now.

_ "Eddie," a voice singsonged down the corridor, a girl of noble birth who was particularly intent on gaining his favor and who he'd been trying to dodge all day. _

_He'd slipped out into the gardens as the voice called again and swung his gaze around for somewhere to hide. Just as he went to take a step forward, someone yanked him to the side and there was a horrified moment where he thought the girl had caught up with him. But no, he was being pulled _into the flowers_._

_Someone pushed on his shoulder and he crouched instinctively before he even registered who was directing him. __He looked up at the boy now standing between him and the opening gap to get behind the sunflowers, __which rose well over both of their heads__. He opened his mouth–maybe to tell off this random boy who would forcibly drag _ the prince _ around, or maybe to ask how the boy managed to look so ethereal with the sunlight beating down on him instead of flushed and sweaty and gross–but held his tongue when he heard his name called from just a few feet away. _

_ "Oh, Eddie, where are you? I know you came this way~" She continued talking as she began to make her way into the gardens, tone rising and falling in a way that she must have thought was melodic. _

_ When her voice finally faded away, the stranger offered him a hand, which Eddie ignored (because, ew, he can _ see _ the dirt caked under this boy's nails) in favor of standing up by himself. _

_ The stranger only shrugged and retracted his hand. "You looked like you needed some help," he said. "I'm Richie." _

_ Eddie reset his crown, which had fallen partly across his forehead, and tugged his shirt straight. "Prince Edward Ka–" _

_ "I know. Kinda hard to miss." Richie smiled and it was so endearing that Eddie, of all people, lost his words for a moment. "How come you're running from her anyway? She seems to like you." _

_ "Not really," Eddie said, brain kick-starting again. "She just likes what she could gain by being my friend. I mean she's been following me around _ all week _ and every time I think I've gotten away from her, it's like, 'bah! she's right behind you!' I mean, I'm scared if I don't lock my door at night, I might wake up to find her in my bed or something." _

_ Eddie bit his cheek, realizing he probably shouldn't be sharing this with a stranger. Richie just wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Doesn't sound too bad to me." _

_ "Then _ you _ go out there and find her." Eddie was certain she would take one look at Richie with his worn clothes and dirty hands and messy hair and write him off completely, but Eddie wasn't about to stop him from trying. _

_ He snorted and shook his head, maybe coming to the same conclusion Eddie had. "I'm happy where I am." _

_ Eddie looked up at the towering flowers and frowned. "Why _ are _ you here anyway?" _

_ "Who else is going to water the gardens and save the prince from objectionable advances if not the strapping apprentice gardener?" He lifted his chin and puffed his chest out a bit, making Eddie roll his eyes. _

_ "I don't need to be _ saved_. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself." _

_ "I'm sure you are," Richie said, and it didn't sound sarcastic the way he'd heard it from other people, the way that actually said he was just a weak, silly boy who didn't know any better. _

_ "Well, I should go now. Thanks for...helping." _

_ "Why do you have to go?" _

_ Eddie frowned. "I can't just hide in the sunflowers all day." _

_ "Why not? You're a prince. You can practically do whatever you want." _

_ Eddie thinks about his mother and all the things she's banned him from doing on account of his 'delicate' health. "You'd be surprised by how wrong you are." _

_ "Yeah? Tell me about it." _

_ And he did. He talked to Richie Tozier, apprentice gardener, behind the towering row of sunflowers, for hours that day. _

_ And he hadn't known it then, but that would be the day he made his first true friend. _

"That's the _fifth_ offer you've rejected, Eddie," his mother is saying, and he sighs and rests his head on the windowsill. 

"I know, mommy."

"I hand pick these girls myself, Eddie-bear," his mother says, tearfully now. He prays she doesn't start crying again, like she'd done the last two times, which had filled him with guilt. "I just want to make sure you find someone who's good for you."

"I know, mommy," he says again. He's not sure if she's trying to find someone good for _ him _ or good for _ her_, but he isn't going to argue about it.

She finally decides to leave his room–not without getting a kiss first, of course–and when he looks back out the window, Richie is staring up at him. They wave at each other and then Richie goes back to work, leaving him to his pining and contemplative silence. 

He isn't left to sulk for long though, since Stan comes in a few minutes later, pulling a wheeled hamper behind him and wearing a particularly pinched face.

"Richie said you need your blankets changed."

Eddie frowns and turns from the window. "When? I've been watching him for the past twenty minutes; I would've noticed if you'd gone out there."

"That's just sad," Stan says, and Eddie sticks his tongue out, because he's mature like that. "He told me last night."

"And you're just doing it now? You're the worst footman ever."

Stan doesn't deny it, opting instead to start pulling the blankets and sheets off the bed. 

A thought occurs to him then, a little belated. "Why would Richie tell you to change them anyway?"

Stan's face pinches again. "I _ really _ don't want to think about why he knows when your bed sheets are dirty."

The implication makes Eddie's face color. "That's _ disgusting_, Stanley."

"_Yeah_." Stan shoves the linens into the empty hamper. "Why do you have so many roses in here?"

"Oh, I don't know, really."

"You don't _ know_?"

"I used to get one every few weeks, but I've gotten one every _ day _ this week." He reaches out and runs a hand along the petals of the nearest rose. "They're nice, though. They're even dethorned."

"And you don't know who they're from?" Stan asks slowly.

"No. They don't come with notes or anything."

There is a long silence where Stan simply stares at him. 

"What?"

"You've been getting _ roses _ as gifts for _ months _ and you have no clue who could be behind it?"

"Do you know how many people have access to my room? Actually, don't answer that, it's kind of creepy to think about."

Stan rolls his eyes and starts wheeling the hamper away. "I'll go get something clean. You...try to use your brain for once."

"Hey!" 

+

The second week brings even more roses, and by the third week, there has to be around three dozen roses in Eddie's room, which is kind of ridiculous.

"Have you noticed any blooms missing from the rose bushes?" he asks Richie, who's sprawled across his bed and refusing to get up. He uses all of his five-seven, one hundred thirty pound strength to push the lanky deadweight over enough that he can get on the bed and slide his legs under the covers.

Richie makes a questioning hum against the pillow he's face down in–how he doesn't suffocate in his sleep, Eddie doesn't know.

"The rose bushes. Have you not seen all the roses in here? They were nice at first, but now I'm wondering if they aren't some sort of prank or something. Like, maybe someone is cutting roses off the rosebush and sticking them in here to rub salt in the wound."

He turns his head, blinking sleepily. "You don't like 'em?"

"That's not what I said. Listen, just, are there roses missing or not?"

With a huff, Richie closes his eyes and stretches a leg out until it's pressed to Eddie's. "Go to sleep."

"_You _ go to sleep."

"I'm trying."

"Get out of my bed." Eddie gives a half-hearted shove, protesting for the point of it rather than really minding Richie crashing with him.

He sighs and turns off the lights, then shimmies down from his seated position against the headboard. Richie's sleeping on top of the covers like a monster, which makes it hard to get under them, but he manages it.

As soon as he's lying down, Richie throws two limbs overtop of him and tells him to stop moving so much.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was _ I _ moving in _ my _ bed? Was _ I _ disturbing _ your _ rest in _ my _ room?"

"Yes," Richie mumbles, either too tired to get the sarcasm or too tired to respond to it.

A few minutes pass, but Eddie's brain won't quiet. He reaches a hand out in the dark and shakes whatever body part he hits first. "You never answered my question."

"What question?"

"Are there _ roses _ missing?"

Richie groans long and loud. "Oh my god, Eds, it's like one in the morning, aren't you _ tired _?"

"Well, yeah, physically, but I just keep thinking, what if–"

"There's your problem. Stop thinking. You know, your mom never talks this much in bed."

"Beep beep, Richie."

"The rose bushes are fine. Can we go to sleep now?"

"Fine, but if you start snoring, I'm kicking you out of the bed."

Richie snuggles up closer to him. "I don't snore. Just ask your mom."

"I'll kick you out of the monarchy too."

"Sonia would never allow it."

"Shut up, Richie."

+

As the month draws to a close, the roses are joined by arrangements of other flowers until there's bouquets on almost every available surface in his room. He doesn't have a particularly green thumb, but Richie seems content enough stopping by to check on them and keep them alive for as long as possible inside the vases.

If Eddie's being honest with himself, which he tries never to be, for his own peace of mind, he really likes the way it gives Richie extra reason to see him. Especially when he has to come back from some public outing or event, it's nice to see Richie already in his room, as if waiting for him. He could get used to that, he thinks, if he let himself.

"It's starting to look like a floral delivery shop in here," he says as Richie clips the stems of one of the bouquets.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't know. They're pretty, but I don't really have space for any more. And I still don't know who's doing it. Or _ when _ they're doing it."

"Ghost admirer," Richie says, grinning.

Eddie leans against the wall, watching him. "Stan said something before but, well, it's kind of stupid. Actually, nevermind."

Richie's eyes narrow as he sets the flowers back in place. "What did Stan say?"

"Just that– Well, he said that _ you _ could be the one leaving these all here, but that's– That's stupid, right? I mean, why would _ you _ do that?"

With a shrug, Richie turns and tosses the cut bits of stems in the trash. "Maybe I've been in love with you for the past three years and just didn't know how to tell you."

Eddie's heart skips a beat–or five–but he knows Richie's only messing around. "Yeah, right, and I'm actually going to marry the next person my mom tries to match me with."

"How do you know you won't?" Richie asks, back still turned.

_ Because you're the only one I think I'd ever want to marry _is not an acceptable answer to the question. "I just do."

"_How?_"

"Why does it matter?"

"_Because I've been in love with you for the past three years._"

"That's not funny. You can stop saying it now." It kind of hurts, in a deep and aching way, to hear Richie make jokes like that.

Richie stands there for a moment longer before nodding. "I have to go...water the tulips."

He starts walking away before Eddie can even process the words.

"What? The tulips? The sun isn't even out, what are you talking about?" He pushes off the wall and follows after Richie, who has begun power-walking with impressive speed. "Would you wait up, oh my _ god._"

"They have to be watered at night!"

He picks up his pace until he's actually _ jogging _ and grabs onto Richie's arm, pulling him to a stop. "Okay, I may not know a lot about gardening, but I've known _ you _ long enough to know that's a lie."

Eddie circles in front of him, making sure not to let go of his arm in case he decides to just sprint away. His face is turned down, eyes obstructed by those ridiculous, messy curls, but Eddie still sees the two shining tear tracks on his cheeks. 

He has _ never _ seen Richie cry. His stomach takes an unpleasant somersault. "Hey. Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just forgot about the tulips this morning."

"Richie, you're _ crying_."

"No, I'm not."

"I literally see the tears on your face."

Richie uses his free hand to wipe the tracks away. "No, you don't."

Eddie sighs. Leave it to Richie to even make _comforting him _ impossible. 

"Just tell me what happened. You were fine a few…"

He trails off as it hits him and he can almost _ hear _ Stan's sounds of varying disappointment.

"Richie, did you– Did you _ mean _ what you said?" Coming out of his mouth, it just sounds ridiculous, because this is _ Richie_, and Richie never has problems saying what's on his mind the moment it _ enters _ his mind.

"Of course not," Richie says, and Eddie almost believes it for a second. Almost. 

He grasps for every shred of bravery he has to get his next sentence out, fingertips tingling from his anxiety. "I won't like the next girl my mom picks out because I _already_ _like someone_."

"Great," Richie mutters. "Thanks for sharing."

"I like _ you_. _ You're _ that someone."

Richie's head snaps up and Eddie swallows as their eyes lock. The silence stretches and he feels his temperature climbing with it. Has it always been this hot? He thinks he might be sweating.

"Oh my god, can you please say something, because I am like freaking out right now and I really don't want things to get weird between us and–"

He's cut off in the best possible way as Richie leans down and kisses him, mouth soft and warm and wet and Eddie's brain unhelpfully supplies how many bacterium they're sharing right now, but he can't really get himself to _ care _ about it. He kisses back, relief coursing through him, and maybe a whole other tangle of emotions he can't sort out right now.

He's gasping by the time Richie pulls away and he wonders if he's going to have an asthma attack or something. It'd be just like him to ruin something like this with an asthma attack.

When he opens his eyes, unsure of when he'd even made the decision to close them, Richie is smiling down at him, bright and happy. He smiles back, because how could he not? That smile has been his favorite thing to see for years now.

"Have you really been in love with me this whole time?" He can't quite wrap his head around it.

"Yeah. It's gonna break your mom's heart when I tell her."

Eddie steps on his foot. "You're the fucking worst."

Richie laughs and pulls him up onto his tip toes for another kiss. "Yeah, but you like it. What does that say about you?"

"It says Stanley was right. I really don't ever use my brain."

Richie fakes a pout. "Be nicer to your subjects, Eds."

"You're not my subject, asshole, you're my boyfriend."

"Oh? Tell me more."

Eddie kisses the smirk off his face.


End file.
